


A Patch of Bad Weather

by TenRoseForeverandever



Series: Domestic Bliss [18]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Autumn Weather, Autumn on an alien planet, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fertility Festival, Hurt/Comfort, Kinks, Language, Making Love, NSFW, Nudity, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, angsty sex, brief mention of abuse, so basically lots of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenRoseForeverandever/pseuds/TenRoseForeverandever
Summary: The problem was that ever since they had crossed that boundary, the one that changed them from mates to, weeell… Mates (with a capital M), the sex was brilliant; it was all he could think about, really, and that was the problem. If he ever unleashed the full extent of his sexuality on her, she would run and never look back, and rightly so.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a WIP, tucked away in my Fan Fiction folder on my laptop for a very long time! It was originally written for a couple prompts from TimePetalsPrompts way back in autumn of 2015! Over the long months, it would occasionally be taken out, dusted off, had a little bit added to it, and then… tucked away again. Basically, it fought with me.
> 
> THIS YEAR, I was determined to get it finished and posted, and what was originally intended to be a one shot, needed to be split into two big chapters, with a fun, little epilogue that I just couldn’t resist writing.
> 
> From TimePetalsPrompts : Fall on an Alien Planet and Fall Weather, both from 2015 and 2016  
> From DoctorRosePrompts: Maybe fall festivals are the fertility festival on this planet instead of spring?
> 
> My eternal gratitude to mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula for their extraordinary beta skills. You ladies gave me the confidence to see that maybe this fic wasn’t complete rubbish, and you helped me to make it so very much better. Plus, you provided above-and-beyond beta services, listening to me whinge and bitch about personal issues. Thank-you! Thank-you! Thank-you!
> 
> Also, thanks to Jellyneau for advice on my use of statistical terminology. It was at least a year ago and she probably doesn’t even remember, but she deserves a huge hug, nonetheless.
> 
> ***Heed the ratings. This story is a bit of a smutfest.

* * *

“Take me ‘ome!” Rose demanded, mucus oozing from her hair to pool on her shoulders.

The Doctor’s hearts stuttered; his respiratory bypass kicked in; but he refused to panic as he followed her into the TARDIS.

Obviously, she was just over-reacting. Surely she would never _seriously_ contemplate leaving…

He frowned. “I don’t really understand what you’re complaining about. Honestly, we’ve been through worse. And I mean you… you… you’ve taken on the Slitheen. They have to be… oh… two-hundred times worse than a patch of bad weather.”

Rose glared at him: a glare that did funny things to his insides; a glare that simultaneously made him want to run for his life and rip her denims off so he could fuck her hard against the console.

“ _Bad weather_? Is ‘at w’at you call this?”

“Weeeell…”

“The clouds jus’ sneezed neon-lavender snot all over us, ya plonker!” Her lips did that appealing angry-pout-thing that drove him mental. Clearly fucking her against the console was the best option. Better yet, bending her over it and fucking her from behind. He’d just have to hope she wouldn’t go all praying-mantis on him.

“It’s not _snot_ , Rose. It is the product of one of the most miraculous weather events in this sector. This _snot_ , as you so irreverently call it, nourishes the soil throughout the dry winter season. Not only does it keep the plants hydrated, but it provides the perfect balance of nutrients to sustain the development of blossoms when spring rolls around. Brilliant! And, as you well know, it is properly called ‘Bloort’.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her back to him. “I’m goin’ to my room!”

“Oh…” The fantasy of that shag was quickly becoming just that: a fantasy. “Not to _our_ –?”

“You _wish_! I am goin’ to clean up, in _my_ room, an’ then you _will_ take me ‘ome.” Her curt response was accompanied by a rather assertive and shockingly rude hand gesture. She stalked down the passageway, leaving a slimy, purple trail behind her.

“Fine! If that’s what you want! Don’t let _me_ stop you…” The lame retort stumbled past his lips, but she had already disappeared beyond earshot. He lifted his hands to run them through his hair in frustration, but yanked them back when his fingers encountered big glops of Bloort. “Yeck!” 

Maybe she really _did_ want him to take her home… There again, maybe she just wanted to spend a little time with her mum.

He paced around the console, pummelling several buttons and switches, and trying very hard not to imagine Rose pushed up against it, legs spread to receive him. Although, he had to admit, that sort of thinking was certainly better than worrying about her wanting to leave him.

The problem was that ever since they had crossed _that_ boundary, the one that changed them from mates to, weeell… Mates (with a capital M); ever since he had allowed her through his defenses and shown her, how much he… how much he admired her. Yes, admired, esteemed, valued her. (Rassilon, why couldn’t he just say it?) Still, the point was that now, while the sex was brilliant, it was all he could think about really, and that, _that_ was the problem.

If she ever realized just how much he wanted, needed, craved her, she certainly _would_ be demanding, in no uncertain terms, that he drop her home and never, ever return. If she ever found out about his fantasizing, the things he dreamt of doing with her, she would be disgusted, think him a pervert, a deviant, a degenerate. Fucking her against the console was, after all, just the tip of the fantasy iceberg. If he ever unleashed the full extent of his sexuality on her, she would run and never look back, and rightly so.

No, he would have to maintain a tight rein on his hormones, no matter how much he just wanted to… weeell… fuck his brains out with her; fuck her all the way to the end of space and time and back again. No, he was a Time Lord. He could master this. He could never allow himself to hurt her.

But, it was clear she knew something was wrong. She had been irritable for days, and an irritable Tyler female was a force to be reckoned with. It was all getting just a bit too domestic, if he was honest. Every little thing seemed to set her off. She was always pointing out his shortcomings: an admittedly difficult task that she made look easy.  (Blimey, only a few days ago, she had had the nerve to whinge about him referring to the “red” bucket as “not-blue”.)

At least she could never ever criticize his performance when it came to their intimate activities, if her gorgeous moaning and panting was anything to go by. No matter his need to control his own urges, he always made sure she was satisfied and honoured in the most delightful ways.

Today’s outing was supposed to have been a part of that: a romantic adventure; a chance to add something a little different to their sex life, something more… for lack of a better word… experimental. Something that maybe would have allowed him to live just a fraction of those fantasies. Something that had turned into a big, purple mess! 

And now, she was threatening to leave him! He probably should have explained more thoroughly ahead of time. No, he _definitely_ should have explained more thoroughly, given her recent volatile temperament.

What if this had, in fact, been the last straw, and she really, truly _did_ want to be shot of him? Better for her in the long run, he supposed. What if, despite his superior command over the physical aspects of his sexual physiology, he lost control of his libido and she got hurt? Yes, it was better this way. She _should_ leave; walk away and live a fantastic life. And letting her go without a fight was the responsible thing to do.

The problem was… he just didn’t want her to leave. Ever. Having to live without his precious girl would wound his soul in ways that would never heal. Just the thought of being without her left him numb.

He ran his hands through his Bloort-soaked hair again. This… _this_ was the reason he kept his companions at arm’s-length, the inevitable hurt when they left: left of their own free will; left behind by him; left for dead… But with Rose, all the rules had changed. With Rose, “arm’s-length” meant the distance from his shoulder to where his hand entwined with hers. It meant how far he could wrap his arms around her body and never let go.

He sighed, thrusting the final lever into position, sending the TARDIS spinning into the vortex, and trudged along the passageway to their… no, _his_ bedroom, to clean up and change into a fresh suit.

He had to fix this. He just didn’t know how.

\--oOo--

Rose was still fuming as she stepped into the shower, but after a minute or so, the steaming spray began to relax the tension from her muscles and the Bloort from her hair, and her mind began to wander. It drifted to the beginning of today’s excursion, when she and the Doctor had exited the TARDIS, laughing, hands swinging together, ready to enjoy what the Doctor had assured her was the perfect autumn day for that planet: Bloortyroonzeenthingamywhatsit… something unending and unpronounceable, anyway.  And, as they had walked through the glades it _had_ been perfect, by any standards, with the suns shining, soft breezes blowing, and the autumn leaves rippling in varying shades of magentas and purples.

_The Doctor plucked a leaf from a nearby tree as they meandered along. “Oh, just feel that, Rose!” he enthused._

_She reached out a tentative hand and was surprised by the cushiony texture of it. “It’s so squishy!”  She laughed in delight. “So where are we goin’, then?” she asked, peering ahead of her for a glimpse of their destination, as he carelessly tossed the leaf away._

_“We’re already here.”_

_“W’at? Right ‘ere? In this… w’at even is this? Not a meadow, but not a forest, either, yeah?”_

_“Yu-p!”_

_“Hate to break it to ya, but there’s not a lot goin’ on ‘ere, Doctor.”_

_“You say that like that’s such a bad thing!”_

_“No, no, it’s lovely. It is.” She stroked his arm. “Jus’ not your usual stop, yeah. No screamin’; no aliens; jus’ grass an’ trees.”_

_“Nah, not yet. But in a few hours, Rose, this glade and others like it around the planet’s southern hemisphere will soon be teeming with Bloorteens.”_

_“Bloorteens?”_

_“The native advanced species of this planet. Not so much into space travel, the Bloorteens (a nearly completely agrarian society), but they are very accustomed to the arrival of alien visitors at this time of year, and welcome them to take part in their autumn festivities.”_

_“Festivities! Now, tha’s more like you! And while we wait…?”_

_“Picnic!” He produced, from his coat’s bigger-on-the-inside pockets, a picnic basket filled with delicious treats to eat, a bottle of wine, and a blanket to sit on.”_

Rose smiled to herself as she squirted shampoo into her hair, removing the last remnants of Bloort from her body. That picnic had almost seemed… romantic. Almost… for the Doctor. Almost like a date! It was so uncharacteristic of him, she wasn’t quite sure if she should try to read very much into it. Their relationship had definitely changed, but while they had taken it to the next level, it had also stayed very much the same as it ever had.

The night after returning to the TARDIS following their ordeal at Krop Tor, Rose had been unable to sleep. With the impending doom of the devil’s words rushing through her mind, Rose had tottered to the Doctor’s room, seeking comfort. He had made a point, earlier that evening, of informing her that he would be in his bedroom, trying to get some sleep that night, instead of tinkering in the console room. Sure enough, he hadn’t seemed even remotely surprised to see her hovering in his doorway asking if it would be alright if she spent the night with him.

Rose rinsed her hair and squeezed the water from it, clipping it atop her head. She let the hot water pound against her tense shoulders as her thoughts turned to the events that had transpired after she had slipped into his bed that night.

_Nestled against his chest, calmed by the quadruple beat of his hearts, and held securely by his arms, she trailed her finger in idle spirals over the fabric of his T-shirt. She breathed in his comforting scent._

_She needed more, needed to be closer to him._

_She propped herself up so her face was suspended over his and looked into his ancient eyes. Her gaze flickered down to his mouth, his soft lower lip tempting her. Long seconds marched by, and little by little, she lowered her mouth until their lips were not quite touching. “This all right?” she inquired._

_He responded without hesitation. “Whatever you need, Rose.” He raised his head so his lips met hers in a tender caress, offering comfort with every stroke of his tongue._

_As Rose relaxed into the kiss, the anxiety and terror of the previous few days steadily dissipated, replaced by a different type of urgency: a craving forming hot and heavy, low in her abdomen. She opened her mouth to him and he immediately responded to her need, deepening the kiss. Gathering confidence at the Doctor’s encouraging reaction to her advances, and the pleasant arousal buzzing through her body, she tangled her fingers in his soft hair, trailed them over the stubble on his cheek, and skimmed them over the pulse point in his neck, things she had only ever dreamt of doing before tonight. Emboldened, she allowed her hand to explore further, meandering down his chest and over his firm abdomen, until her fingertips were dancing along the line of his waistband._

_“This all right, too? I mean do you…? Can you…?”_

_“Dance?” he smirked at her. “Oh, yes!”_

_She grinned, kissing him again and dipping her fingers under the fabric of his pyjamas, and enclosing his already half-hard cock in the palm of her hand._

_Before even a minute had passed, he stopped her hand. “Let me take care of you, Rose. I promise you won’t regret it. I_ am _very skilled.”_

_“You think you’re so impressive.” Her voice trembled. Butterflies swirled in her belly._

_“I am so impressive,” he reassured her, gently rearranging her body so she was lying on her back. He kissed her again before easing her T-shirt over her head. Her breath caught in her throat at the first stroke of his slender fingers over the sensitive swells of her breasts. He cupped her, kneading her flesh in his cool hands, as he mouthed her nipples to taut peaks with tugs of his velvet lips, each teasing touch sending hot bursts of delight from deep in her core to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She impatiently arched into him, encouraging his touches lower to where an urgent ache was building in the damp hollows between her thighs._

_She moaned in relief as he moved down her body, coaxing her thighs apart with delicate strokes of his fingers, and then his cool tongue was teasing the hot flesh of her sex, long slow laps, that made her quiver, yearning for more. He built her slowly, blissfully, his talented tongue swirling and laving, his lips suckling and his long fingers plunging and thrusting until she shattered, her inner walls throbbing around his fingers, her body convulsing in ecstasy. He drew out her climax with long sweeps of his tongue._

_“All right,” she managed to giggle through her post-orgasmic haze, “that_ was _impressive! I’ll give ya that.”_

_He chuckled. “One day, Rose Tyler, you will learn to believe me.”_

_“Your turn now.”_

_“Not necessary, Rose.”_

_“Would it feel nice, Doctor?”_

_He nodded._

_“Well then, it’s necessary. An’ I’m more than happy to return the favour.” She beamed, sitting up to give him a warm kiss._

_She dipped her hand below his pyjamas again, stroking his cock to full hardness. God, he was magnificent. She licked her lips, and unable to resist the temptation, lowered her head and took the tip of his erection into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him, tasting his unique, spicy musk. Gradually she took him deeper, filling her mouth with him as far as she could. He let her set the pace, never thrusting into her mouth or laying a hand on her head; the perfect gentleman._

_Her own desire was building again with each stroke of her tongue along his hard length and she touched herself, seeking relief, but what she really longed for was to feel him fill her, stretch her, for him to ease the demanding ache between her thighs._

_He was silent as she released him from between her lips and scrambled on top of him. Reaching back, she took him in hand, lining him up with her eager opening. Meeting his eyes, she sought permission. “Is this okay?” A slight nod of consent was all he gave, all that was needed, and she plunged herself over him, crying out with pleasure as her willing flesh yielded to his girth._

_As she moved over his length, he gripped her thighs, guiding her motions, and smiled at her reassuringly as she shuddered through another orgasm, but his expression remained otherwise impassive. He had shut his eyes when he came, a small hint of pleasure as she rode him through his climax. Then he gave her a quick thank-you kiss, rolled her off him, and helped her clean herself._

_“Was that…?”_

_“What?”_

_“Was that okay, Doctor?”_

_“Brilliant! You are brilliant, Rose.”_

He had given her a peck on the forehead and she had fallen asleep snuggled comfortably in his arms. But he’d been gone by the time she awoke, and after that, their days had progressed in the usual way. Nothing seemed to have changed between them. Nothing except he now referred to his room as theirs; and at bedtime they would have sex, mind blowing sex as far as she was concerned, but for him… he hardly made a sound. Barely a moan of pleasure or a groan of longing passed his lips; and he never cried out her name.

Still, he always told her it was brilliant or wonderful, and held her against his hearts until she fell asleep.

What bothered her, she realized, standing in the shower, was not that it wasn’t great sex! It was! But it wasn’t making love. There was something very procedural about it all, like a service he was providing for her benefit. Despite his undeniable skill and proficiency in a wide variety of… ahem… techniques, there was nothing particularly loving or spontaneous about it.

 _Well, he wasn’t exactly human_ , she reasoned.

So when he had laid out the picnic, complete with wine, earlier that day, she had been quite shocked at what seemed to be a very thoughtful and romantic gesture. He had even hand fed her some of the little bite-sized morsels of food, and had nibbled her fingers in a rather cheeky, erotic fashion when she held a marmalade-covered treat to his mouth in return.

She had lain back after the picnic, drowsy, her head and body cushioned on a perfect cloud-like pillow of vermillion leaves the Doctor had collected. Then, he had begun to prattle on about the Bloorteens, lulling her to sleep with cadence of his voice. It had all started getting a bit strange, though, after she woke up.

_She was startled awake by the Doctor shaking her shoulder. “Rose! Wake-up, sleepyhead! It’s starting; the festivities!”_

_All around her, the quiet glade had become filled with the excited fluting chatter of hundreds upon hundreds of what she assumed were the Bloorteens: pale purple creatures, who walked on four of their six limbs. The two remaining limbs extended from their torso, and made them very vaguely reminiscent of centaurs from Earth mythology. They had a wild tuft of white, breezy hair on their heads, a trail of which extended down the centre line of their backs to form a tail at their hind ends. Each foot had three flexible digits as did their hands. Their faces were adorned with thin stripes of the white fur, and their eyes were wide set, above mouths perched at the end of a short, slender snout. Two funnel-shaped stalks protruded up through their hair, above their eyes._

_“They’re beautiful…” Rose intoned in a hushed voice._

_“Hmmm… yes, I suppose they are. Oh, look! There, Rose! That one is male.”_

_“How can you tell?” She was boggled by all the activity taking place around her._

_“Oh, that fleshy protrusion on his chest.”_

_“That’s his…”_

_“Penis? Weeell, it performs the same basic function, so you could say that… yes.”_

_“Then the females have…”_

_“An appropriate receptacle in a similar position on the body. See? There! That’s his mate.”_

_Rose nodded, gripping the Doctor’s arm. “They’re comin’ this way.”_

_She and the Doctor scrambled to their feet. She clutched his hand for reassurance._

_“Well, hallo there!” the Doctor gushed as only he could. “I’m the Doctor, by the way. And this is my… this is my… my Rose Tyler.”_

_“Welcome,” the Bloorteen’s voice was a reedy whistle. He introduced himself and his mate. “I hope you plan to partake in the festivities.”_

_“Oh, yes! We do! Don’t we Rose?”_

_“Yeah! Sounds like a great time!” Rose didn’t quite know what she was committing to, and tried her best to appear enthusiastic, not wanting to offend their hosts._

_“Not to insult the Doctor and his Rose by taking our leave so abruptly, but we must be off to gather our leaves. I see you already have gathered a full bed,” the Bloorteen remarked, clearly impressed._

_“Yu-p! Got a bit of a head start. Hope that’s okay…” the Doctor chirped._

_“You are welcome to anything.”_

_His mate glanced skywards, and emitted a low whistle to get his attention. “The clouds are coming in, though. We mustn’t tarry. We must gather our bed before the Bloort falls.”_

_“Well, then,” the Doctor sang out, “may the Bloort bring you great bounty and sustain you through the long winter.”_

_“You know our blessing, Doctor! You do us a great honour!” the female hooted._

_“May it also bring you bounty,” the male added with a swish of his tail. Saluting the Doctor and Rose with nods of their fluffy heads, the Bloorteens loped off to find a patch of grass on which to “gather their bed.”_

_“What happens now?” Rose whispered to the Doctor._

_“We wait. See those clouds moving in?” He paused as she acknowledged the massive violet cloud bank advancing toward them through the sky. “Soon they will drop Bloort all over the land.” He grinned down at her._

_They watched as the Bloorteen rushed to and fro, collecting their leaves and casting furtive glances up at the darkening sky. Their frenetic pace and their enthusiasm was infectious and made Rose’s heart race, and the roiling purple clouds were closing in on them fast. She squeezed the Doctor’s hand in excitement. Whatever was going to happen, it would be happening soon._

_“Don’t we need an umbrella or something?”_

_“An umbrella? What would we need an umbrella for? It would only defeat the purpose.”_

_“Which is?” she prompted in return._

_“Well, to soak in the bounty of the Bloort, of course.”_

_“But –”_

_“Shhhhh!  It’s happening!”_

_Sure enough, the clouds now completely occluded the sky, and they had darkened to an ominous shade of indigo. The pairs of Bloorteens, filling the land for as far as Rose could see, had suddenly gone silent, heads turned upwards, anticipation shivering through them._

_Suddenly the clouds burst, sending huge glops of slimy Bloort all over the land and creatures below, including the Doctor and Rose._

Rose felt her anger rebound a bit at the memory of the cold, purple slime oozing into her hair and clothes. She shut off the shower with an aggressive twist of her wrist, as she recalled the trek back to the TARDIS, ankle-deep in Bloort, picking her way through the fields as she attempted to avoid countless Bloorteens, writhing and wriggling together in the violet slop.  And that fuckwit of a Doctor had been trotting after her, spouting some nonsense about giving it a go! What the hell had he been thinking this time? Was he actually suggesting they roll around in it like the natives?  And do what exactly? What the hell for?

As Rose began to towel herself dry, her anger finally dissipated into incredulity, and she found herself chuckling. Life with the Doctor was a lot of things, but it was never boring.

But now it was time to face him. She had lost her temper in the heat of the moment, had hurt him and used his vulnerabilities against him, not something she was proud of. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she needed to offer him an apology.

\--oOo--

“’Lo.”

The Doctor startled at the sound of Rose’s voice. He looked up from the countertop where he was brooding as he waited for the tea to brew. She was leaning against the galley doorway, dressed in her pyjamas: a T-shirt and soft cotton trousers. Her lips were pressed together, and her arms crossed over her chest, pensive. Wordless, he turned to the cupboard and pulled down her mug, placing it next to his: a peace offering, perhaps, or maybe just something to remind her she had a home here with him and he really, _really_ didn’t want her to leave.

She forced a tight smile, but her eyes just seemed sad.  That wasn’t a good sign. Not even a little bit.

Fighting back the dread clawing at him, he found comfort in the familiar motions of pouring the tea, adding milk to each mug (plus four heaps of sugar to his.) He placed the mugs on the table, and never taking his gaze from Rose, he pulled out his chair and sat down, prepared to wait. As much as he ached to keep her by his side for as long as the universe permitted, this decision was ultimately hers to make. He wouldn’t blame her if she still wanted to leave, to live a proper beans-on-toast life, far away from him and his… weeell, from him. Quite right, too. Still, he was somewhat heartened by the fact that she was wearing her pyjamas. Surely that meant she wasn’t leaving… at least not right this minute. A rush of hope pushed back the dread just enough to leave him with a sickening sense of apprehension.

It was a full two minutes, forty-three seconds later before she moved. Ducking her head, she shoved herself away from the doorway with an extravagant sigh, and sidled toward her chair. She plonked down onto it and pulled the steaming mug of tea toward her. Taking a sip, she shut her eyes in bliss, and sighed again. “Blimey, that’s a good cuppa! Ta.”

The Doctor’s hands surrounded his mug and he bowed his head over it, his fringe hanging messily over his eyes. It was a huge effort to keep his voice steady over the frantic, arrhythmic clamour of his heartsbeat. “You all packed then?”

“Don’t be so stupid!”

He didn’t need to look up to know she had rolled her eyes, but suddenly her hands surrounded his, over his tea mug, her thumbs stroking his fingers where they met. Immeasurable relief flooded through him.

“Doctor…” her voice trickled away.

He looked up: her eyes were downcast; she bit at the corner of her lower lip; and a little furrow had appeared on her forehead. She was about to apologise, he was sure of it! Now that he was able to think clearly, without all the worry and fear clouding his judgement, she _had_ been rather excessively volatile earlier, a right misery to be honest.  “Aha!” he exclaimed with a vehemence that startled even him. “So you admit it then, Rose Tyler: you overreacted!”

Rose’s hand snapped back from his and she shot out of her chair. “I bloody well did _not!_ ” Her eyes sparked.

With a surge of panic (blimey, _that_ had been the wrong thing to say... a bit premature, perhaps) he stood as well. He made sure he modulated his voice before he spoke again. “Was it really so bad, Rose?”

She muttered something unintelligible under her breath, and folded her arms across her chest.

He glowered at her. “Really? All the things we’ve done; all the things we’ve been through; and you… you’re angry about a bit of purple slime.”

She averted her eyes from his, giving a half-hearted shrug.

He could see chinks forming in her armor, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to press the advantage. He raised his voice again. “Do you seriously think I would take you to somewhere so _obviously_ dangerous? It was a bloody _fertility_ festival,” he barked, “not some hostile species launching lethal toxins at us!”

“Well, how was I to know that?” she snapped back at him. “Could’ve given us a warnin’…” Then her eyes narrowed, nonplussed. “Wait. A _fertility_ festival?”

“Weeell…” he tugged his ear, all pretense of anger dissolving into discomfiture “…yeah, I said that, didn’t I?”

“Yu-p…” As she processed his words, Rose’s expression morphed into something like that of the proverbial cat who had caught the canary, and while the Doctor always appreciated a good proverb, seeing as he was, essentially, the unfortunate bird, he could have done without it this once. “So,” Rose prompted through the smug smirk that curled her lips, “care to share with the class?”

“Ooooh, weeell… really, you aren’t usually one to turn your nose up at a bit of cultural immersion, but perhaps this was a smidge _too_ immersive, eh Rose? Obviously I went a bit overboard with this one. Probably best just to put this behind us. What d’ya say? After all there’s a whole universe of adventure out there, just waiting for us!”

Rose fixed him with a fierce glare, shaking her head slowly from side to side. “Fert-il-it-y Fest-i-val.” She carefully enunciated each syllable.

“Riiiight…”

“Spill.”

“Roooose…” He jammed his hands in his trouser pockets, looking down at his Chucks.

She shot him a pointed look, one that brooked no prevaricating.

With a sigh, he reached out and held the tips of Rose’s fingers between his own. He tugged her back toward the table. “Let’s sit.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance, but eventually acquiesced. “All right, then…”

Taking a long swig of his tea, he began. “The natives actually roll themselves around in the Bloort, believing it increases their fertility.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded, relaxing at her show of interest in the subject, and biting his tongue to stop himself from rubbing it in that yes, obviously she clearly _did_ , in fact, enjoy immersing herself in the traditions of other cultures. He decided (wisely he thought) to stick strictly to the facts: “Yeah, but it’s a load of rubbish; it only works for the flora. Although, statistically, more young _are_ born in the early spring, but, weeell, that’s just correlation versus causation, of course.  The population on this planet sees a causative relationship between the Bloort and fertility, when really it's basically a simple correlation between all that shagging and bearing offspring, since nearly every fertile couple mates during the Bloort Festival.”

“You mean… Oh. My. God! You mean, after the Bloort fell… the Bloorteens… all that writhin’ around… they were matin’?”

“Erm…”

“You brought me to a bloody alien orgy?”

“Weeell… to be specific, a _fertility festival_ , Rose.”

“I don’t fuckin’ believe it!” Rose stood again, throwing her arms in the air and walked out of the galley.

The Doctor took a last, longing look at his cup of tea, cooling rapidly on the table, and trotted after her.  “Rose? Roooo-ooose!” He followed her into the console room, where she flopped down on the jump seat, arms crossed across her chest, eyes resolutely focussed on the floor. His hearts thundered. His mind raced. _The console room!_ What if she’d decided to leave after all?

He drew a deep breath. He needed to fix this. Pronto! ASAP! Rassilon, he needed to fix it right bloody now!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose finally begin to communicate with one another... but they may be in for a "rough ride", as one of the Doctor's fantasies is fulfilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, many thanks to mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula for their outstanding beta work. You've challenged me to do better, every step of the way. My eternal thanks, darlings!
> 
> Check out the outstanding manip created just for this story by the very lovely and talented Rose_Nebula. It can be found at the beginning of Chapter One. Gorgeous! Thank-you so much

* * *

**Previously:**

_“You brought me to a bloody alien orgy?”_

_“Weeell… to be specific, a fertility festival, Rose.”_

_“I don’t fuckin’ believe it!” Rose stood again, throwing her arms in the air and walked out of the galley._

_The Doctor took a last, longing look at his cup of tea, cooling rapidly on the table, and trotted after her.  “Rose? Roooo-ooose!” He followed her into the console room, where she flopped down on the jump seat, arms crossed across her chest, eyes resolutely focussed on the floor.  His hearts thundered. His mind raced. The console room! What if she’d decided to leave after all?_

_He drew a deep breath. He needed to fix this. Pronto! ASAP! Rassilon, he needed to fix it right bloody now!_

 

**A Patch of Bad Weather: Chapter 2**

Rapidly, the Doctor considered all the possible strategies he could employ. So far, his attempts weren’t exactly bearing fruit and he was confused by Rose’s outburst. A fertility festival wasn’t exactly conventional, but he had thought it might have been fun. They did all sorts of unconventional, fun things, he and Rose. Besides, Rose covered in Bloort, all soft and slippery and… weeell, how could he have ever passed up that opportunity? Even though he would have had to restrain himself at the time, it would have fueled his private fantasies for weeks to come.

He tamped down the arousal coursing through his system, trying to block erotic thoughts of Rose from his mind. He had to think logically! With his stupid, thick head! The one between his shoulders, _not_ the one between his legs!

What it came down to was that he really ought to find out what she was feeling. He knew this. But talking about feelings and emotions… weeell, it was all so domestic, that. He groaned inwardly. Nothing good ever came of domestics. Although, he had to admit, domestics with Rose Tyler were not what he had ever expected. If he was being honest, domestics with Rose Tyler were completely brilliant, and something he couldn’t bear even imagining not having in his life anymore. If talking about uncomfortable subjects was what he had to do to keep her with him, he would just have to man up and do it.

“Rose?” Resolved, he took a step toward her, approaching cautiously, as he might a Vansooprion Rathgorb (truthfully, he’d rather face the Rathgorb: much safer). His hand inched forward to touch her rigid shoulder.

With an angry shrug, she threw his hand off, and swung around to face him. “What the hell, Doctor?”

He jumped back with a yelp. (Y-up, the Rathgorb was looking very good, right now.) “I thought we could talk…” he squeaked out.

“You? You thought…? That’s a bit rich, coming from–”

“I know, I’m sorry. So sorry! But, I’m ready to talk, listen, whatever you want, Rose. I just… I don’t want you to leave.”

Rose’s face softened, and a weak smile tugged at her lips. She shifted to one end of the jump seat and patted the space she’d vacated. Hope surging through him, he sat, eagerly accepting her invitation. She reached toward him, tentatively stroking his upper arm. Her warmth penetrated his layers of clothing, and his hearts raced in response.

Suddenly, that same gentle hand smacked his arm… hard. “An alien orgy, Doctor? Seriously?”

“Ow,” he rubbed his tender arm. “That hurt! Besides, I _told_ you: fertility festival.”

“Oh, it did not! And, yeah… semantics.”

He frowned at her. The smack really hadn’t hurt that much, but he didn’t honestly mind making her feel just a little bit guilty about it. “And what was so wrong about taking you to, weeell… that sort of event. We’re _together_ , now. I just thought it might be fun to try something a little bit different. ”

“This coming from _you_? _YOU_?”

He tried not to be affronted by her tone. “And why should that be so surprising?” he huffed.

“Doctor…”

“What?”

“It’s just, you never…”

“What?”

“You never seem that interested…” she jumped to her feet, averting her eyes from his, and picking at her nails, “…you know… in sex.”

He gaped up at her. Of all the things he had expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that. He leaped up and raked a hand through his hair, as he began to pace in the small space in front of the seat, trying to make sense of her words. He stopped in front of her. “But _every_ night... we… we have sex, Rose. I certainly don’t hear you complaining!”

“And it’s lovely. It is, Doctor.” She peered at him through her lashes, tears in her eyes. “But you… you never seem to be enjoying it. It’s like I’m having sex with a… a prossie. Like you’re jus’ doin’ your job.”

“Me? Your own personal gigolo?” He waggled his eyebrows at her and didn’t even try to suppress an impudent smirk. He hoped it might help to ease the tension between them. He nudged her foot with his. “I quite like that title, you know! Rose Tyler’s Personal Gigolo!”

 “Shut up…” She was fighting back a watery smile. “It just always seems so impersonal, yeah. Like you really don’t want to be there.”

As his brain processed her words, his cheekiness evaporated, hot anger rushing through him. “I would do anything for you, Rose Tyler. Anything!”

“Well that’s jus’ it, then, isn’t it?” Lips pursed, and brows drawn together over her fierce, damp eyes, her hands snapped to her hips. (Gorgeous. Infuriating, but bloody gorgeous! Infinitely better than the Rathgorb.) “Ya never let _me_ do anything for _you_. Not really. You’re always jus’ goin’ through the bloody motions. It takes two to tango, Doctor. What we’re doin’, that’s not dancin’, or shaggin’, or fuckin’, or God forbid, makin’ love. It’s just sex. Mechanics.”

He advanced toward her, seething. He really should regulate his temper, but it was getting more and more difficult. Her aggression toward him was arousing. That fire in her eyes burned into his soul, exciting him. His cock, which had been getting more and more difficult to control throughout their heated discussion, now hardened fully, pulsing with desire. He fought, in vain, to redirect his blood flow.

“Would it fuckin’ hurt ya to show some emotions, Doctor? Or am I just not worth the effort?”

“What? _What? WHAT?_ ” He was standing right next to her, now, looming over her, striving to keep his anger from transforming into the full Oncoming… no, _Libidinous_ Storm. He gritted his teeth.  “Not worth the effort? If you only knew the _effort_ I go to every time we… every moment… to make sure I _don’t_ lose control. To make sure I don’t frighten you; hurt you.”

“You think you’re so impressive,” she snarled at him, the words of their longstanding joke turning sour on her tongue.

He looked down at her, his nostrils flaring as the heady musk of her arousal filled him. She was affected too, then. Her pheromones clouded his mind, making his balls ache and his cock desperate to be sheathed in her tight heat. The quadruple throb of his hearts was becoming a deafening thunder in his ears.

Defiant, Rose shoved him in the chest, forcing him back. “I’m not frightened, Doctor.”

“You should be,” he muttered.

She clenched her jaw, and her eyes were dark and furious. “I _want_ this with you, but not the way things have been going. You like to act like you’re so above it all, the great, emotionless Time Lord. But I know you; I’ve seen you express your emotions, yeah, when you think it’s important enough; when you think it’s worth it. You better decide if I’m…” she gestured with her finger between them, “…if _we’re_ , worth it.”

She stepped out to go around him, the intoxicating aroma of her desire wafting up to him with her movement. She would be dripping wet, slick for him, ready to be fucked. He caught her with a firm grip around her bicep, halting her, and she looked up at him, a hint of fear flickering behind the resentment and arousal in her darkened eyes.

He growled, spinning her around, pushing her forward over the console. As her hands flew out to brace herself, he leaned in, his hands covering hers, and hissed in her ear. “Be careful what you wish for, Rose Tyler.” He rutted his iron length against her firm arse, groaning at the friction against his impatient cock through the fabric of their clothes.

“I _want_ this. I _want_ you.” The words tumbled from her mouth with each eager thrust of his hips.

“You sure, Rose? I’m dangerous. And if we do this… if I let go… there’s no going back.”

“I’m not some delicate little flower, Doctor. I grew up on the Estate.  This Rose has thorns. Now, fuck me!”

He smirked. Gathering her hair in one hand, he nuzzled the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. He nipped at the spot, drawing a gasp from her, and as he marked her, a fresh rush of her pheromones assaulted his senses. Releasing her hair, he stood up straight, and she turned her head to look at him, pensive, questioning his intentions. “Off,” he rumbled his command. “Trousers off. Now.”

Her face transforming with eager understanding, she scrabbled at the drawstring of her cotton pyjama bottoms, her fingers trembling. Impatient, the Doctor reached forward and yanked the soft flannel down, his eyes following the long line of her toned legs as the fabric pooled around her ankles. Her arse was bared to him, and he stroked his hands over the curves of her pale flesh, earning him another rush of pheromones.

“Spread your legs,” he demanded. He watched with satisfaction as Rose obeyed him, kicking her pyjamas away from her bare feet, and widening her stance. She leaned over further, wiggling her arse, giving him an eyeful of her glistening, swollen sex.  He inhaled deeply, filling his senses with her want. He loosened his trousers, and pushed his pants down just enough to free his throbbing cock.

Taking himself in hand, he gave a few strong pumps, spreading the moisture from his aching, weeping tip, down his full, thick length. Fuck… he had never been so hard and wanton, had never allowed himself to lust so openly, had never permitted such loss of control. He had never desired this type of physical connection with anyone before. The Time Lords had always considered sex beneath them, unbecoming, a redundant, obscene act. But they were gone, and in this moment, with Rose’s dripping heat exposed, he just wanted to bury himself inside her and fuck her senseless.

With a single thrust, he drove into her, stretching her wide as she engulfed him to the hilt. She gasped at the intrusion, and he growled as he pulled himself out of her silken channel, before pounding into her again, white hot lances of pleasure bursting in his loins. He seized her hair in his fingers, tugging firmly, while his other hand plunged under her T-shirt to knead roughly at the heavy flesh of her breasts. He developed a punishing rhythm of savage thrusts, all the while transfixed by the sight of his cock plunging in and out of her, and revelling in the wet sounds of their coupling. He pulled at her hair, tipping her head back to growl into her ear. “Is this what you wanted, Rose? For me to fuck you like this?”

“Yes!” she whimpered. “I love the way you fill me.”

“I’m going to fuck you raw, Rose. You feel so fucking good, so tight and hot and wet. And you smell… oh, Rose the smell of your arousal. I’ll never be able to stop!”

“Don’t want you to stop!” Her hand had dropped to her clit, rubbing herself in furious circles.

“Is this enough emotion for you, Rose?” He slammed into her, his hands flying to her hips to hold her in place, fingertips bruising her pink flesh.

“God, yes! I… I… Harder, Doctor!”

He complied, picking up his pace, his pleasure and passion escalating with each plunge into Rose’s velvet heat. “And you’ll never again say you’ll leave me, Rose. Not ever! Tell me!”

“I’ll never leave you! I never would!”

“You’re mine! Do you hear me? Mine!”

“Yes! Fuck, yes! Doctor, I’m so close!” Her walls began to flutter.

“Not yet! NO! Not yet!” Still gripping her hips, he pulled out of her, both of them gasping in despair at the loss. He spun her around to face him, hoisting her onto the edge of the console. “I want to see you when you come. I want you to know you’re mine.”

Rose met his gaze, tears filling her eyes. “Yours, Doctor. Forever.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “And you’re mine.” She spread her legs, inviting him in.

He stepped forward, guiding himself back into her welcoming depths. His eyes locked with hers, and he found in them adoration and devotion shining past the darkness of lust. He froze, distress seizing his hearts. He had ravaged her, taken her hard and dominated her, brought her to a point where she was overcome with desire. She had been so vulnerable and he had taken advantage, claiming her for himself, and all but coercing her do the same for him.

And of course she had. She had clearly not been thinking clearly, her mind addled with passion. But what would happen when she came down from her high of arousal and desire and realized she’d committed herself to a relationship with a (frankly) abusive partner? What had he done? How would she ever be able to trust him again?

\--oOo--

As he sank back into her, Rose luxuriated in his firm length filling her, stretching her once again, and she sighed with pleasure. Moments before, he had been truly terrifying, pounding his frustration and indignation out with every thrilling thrust. It had been raw and honest and exhilarating.

But now, suddenly, he was still, holding her gaze, vulnerability and doubt clouding his eyes. Ignoring the buttons and knobs that jabbed into her bum, she wrapped her legs around his waist, securing him inside her. She refused to allow him to run from this moment. “I trust you, Doctor.” She offered him a soft smile and shifted her hips so she slid along his cock, encouraging him to move. “Please, my Doctor. I want this with you. I really do. Have done for so long.”

She breathed a sigh of pleasure and relief as his apprehension subsided, and he took her bait, moving inside her with slow, steady thrusts, hitting her inner wall just right, building her back up. God, it was perfect.

_NO! It was all wrong!_

Panic seized her. He was being so careful and gentle now, the earlier feverish aggression gone. He was running away, after all, slipping back into his detached, soulless approach.

Then, his hands cupped her cheeks, fingers carding the strands of her hair, and he leaned in to taste her lips, a tender kiss that brought tears to her eyes, and joy to her soul. His anger and frustration had dissipated, replaced by something just as strong, just as passionate, just as wonderful and real.

“My Rose.”

He was making love to her.

He trailed his lips down her neck, lingering at her pulse point, his breath cool against her heated skin. His hands worshiped her flesh beneath her t-shirt, touching, teasing her nipples, sensitizing her, and all the while he moved within her, moans of pleasure rising from his throat. She had never heard such a beautiful sound in her life.

Her fingers tangled in the wild strands of his hair as the coil of pleasure tightened within her and her thighs began to tremble. His eyes darkened as he responded to her need, driving into her harder and faster, his arms wrapping around her, supporting her.  Then as his lips captured hers in a searing kiss, the coil released within her, sending her cascading into pulsing, visceral bliss.

“By the Second Sun, you’re so beautiful!” he gasped, and his hips began to move faster between her thighs. His hands moved from her back to steady himself against the edge of the console. 

Rose braced herself as his thrusts became increasingly erratic, delighting in the look of pure rapture that suffused his features: head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth gaping wide with pleasure. “Come for me, my Doctor,” she sighed, clenching rhythmically around his length, building him, urging him toward his release.

“Oh, Rose, oh Rose, oh Rose!” The words tumbled over his lips, as he plunged into her one final time, and froze there as he came, shuddering in ecstasy.

Moments later, he wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her against him, and she responded in kind, holding him close, stroking his back through the layers of his suit. He burrowed his face in the crook of her neck, his breath heaving in a sob. She could swear she felt tears dampen her skin. “Shhhhhhh,” she crooned. “It’s all right, yeah.”

He lifted his head and held her gaze for a moment, eyes wide and uninhibited. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That was…”

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry for, Doctor. I’ve got ya. Always, yeah? God, I…” Unable to find the words to express the awe and love she felt, Rose cradled his face in her hands, and drew him toward her. As her lips touched his, so soft and pliant, they tingled with the remnants of their passion. It was as much a caress as a kiss, a shared expression of their pure love and devotion, honesty and trust.

Minutes, hours, perhaps an eternity later, their lips parted with reluctant nibbles. Gradually the spell broke and reality settled in as Rose became aware of the discomfort of cold metal, and various lumps and bumps and knobs under her bum. She placed one last firm peck on the Doctor’s lips. “How ‘bout we go to bed? I’m knackered.”

“In our…?”

“ _Yes_ , ya plum. In _our_ room.”

\--oOo--

The next morning she rolled off him, skin still damp and shimmering from their exertions, to flop spread-eagle across the sheets. “I have to say,” she turned her sex-tussled head to beam at him, “mornin’ sex is absolutely _the_ best. Hands down! Bar none!”

He propped himself up on one elbow, allowing his eyes to roam freely over her naked body. He returned her grin. “You’ll get no arguments from me. Although, any sex with Rose Tyler is the best sex, in my opinion.”

“Shut up!” She laughed, a free and easy laugh he hadn’t heard in weeks. The sound warmed his soul.

“I mean it,” he insisted, leaning in for a quick, cheeky kiss. “You are the sexiest being in the universe.”

“You ‘ave an obsession, you ‘ave!”

Her words hit him like a bucket of ice water, waking him from the dream he had been living for the last few hours. He had an obsession, all right, an obsession that put his Rose in danger, every single moment he allowed himself to express his feelings. It was only a matter of time before he lost complete control.

He turned his back on her and moved to sit at the edge of the bed. Shields up. His emotional armor snapped into place, his shoulders stiffening and his expression impassive. Defenses set, he was nearly ready to face her again.

He turned his head back to her and forced another grin on his face. He was good at faking those grins. “So, Rose Tyler… where to today?”

“Doctor…” She narrowed her eyes at him. (Maybe he wasn’t so good at faking those grins.)

“The swamplands of Kragnrlotis? I know it doesn’t sound particularly thrilling, but the ecosystem produces some of the very best–”

“ _Doctor!_ What’s goin’ on?” He felt the mattress shift as she scooted over to him. Her warm palm against his cool back made him want to lean into her touch, and it was all he could do not to groan with pleasure. Her hand started tracing soothing circles across his shoulder blades as she shuffled to sit next to him, legs dangling beside his. “I was thinking we could go back to Bloorty… Bloortyroonz… the Bloort planet. Maybe we could try again, yeah?”

“Nah! I don’t think that’s the best idea. Maybe another time. I know! How about–”

Her hand froze on his back. “Oh, no you don’t! You do _not_ get to do this.”

Abruptly, he stood, walking toward the en suite.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me like that! Not after everythin’ we’ve been through. Fuck, Doctor! I thought last night… I thought you felt…”

He turned around in time to see her shoulders slump in defeat.

She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I thought you’d finally realized… Look, forget it.”

He sighed. He just kept hurting her, but how could he ever walk away from her looking like that: crushed, heartbroken, and all because he was an obsessive git.  “It scares me, all right?” he blurted. “You, Rose Tyler, and all the things you make me feel. I never asked for this. It’s properly frightening.”

“But it’s jus’ me.” Her voice was small.

“Just you? _Just you_? But that’s just it!” He wheeled around, raking his hands through his hair, trying to find the right words. Over a million languages filling his stupid head and he couldn’t find the right words to say! “You are to me… Rose, you consume my thoughts. I can barely focus on, weeell… all these, erm, important, universe-saving things that I really ought to be thinking about. And when we’re having sex… weeell, not last night, or this morning, but all the other times… all I do is try to concentrate on all those things to keep myself from completely exploding with what I’m feeling.”

“Oh, ta for that!”

He offered her what he hoped was an apologetic expression. “Rose I’m a Time Lord and my sex drive, let loose… I can’t trust myself around you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Doctor, last night and this morning, we had perfectly normal, wonderful, mind-blowing sex, yeah? Not out of control, no explosions ‘cept the ones that were supposed to happen. After a good angry shag, you were pretty much jus’ like any other bloke.”

“Oi!”

“Oh, relax! Emotionally speakin’, I mean. Your physical performance cannot compare, trust me.” She waggled her eyebrows at him and flashed him a coy smile.

He couldn’t resist inwardly preening at her praise. He _was_ rather impressive. His mind drifted to his memory of her from last night, bent across the console, as he fucked her from behind, just as he had always imagined.

_Rassilon! His imaginings! His fantasies!_ He blanched at the thought. Rose had no concept of the extent of his perversion. A “good, angry shag” was one thing, but the corrupt acts he fantasized about doing with Rose... She didn’t understand, could never accept… she would run, run far and fast and she would be right to do so. He could never pull off a proper relationship with this beautiful woman. She was far too good for him, and he had to make sure she understood that, once and for all.

“You don’t really want me, Rose. I think about doing things… with you… unconventional things… very, extremely unconventional things.”

Her mouth dropped open, shock registering all over her face. Finally, he thought, she was realizing just how unsafe he was. But then, unexpectedly, her mouth hitched up in a lopsided smile, and her eyes narrowed, sparkling behind her lashes. “Doctor, are you a bit… kinky?” Her tongue traversed the circumference of her full lips.

Blimey, that was not the response he had been expecting.

She stood and took a step toward him. “Because, I have some kinks of my own, you know.”

He was staring. He couldn’t help himself. He was fixated on her mouth, watching the words form on her lips (beautiful lips!) and trying to make sense of them, his keen mind and garrulous gob failing him. “Y-y-you do?”

“Mmmm-hmmm…” She sidled closer to him. “Those ties of yours,” she ran a finger down the middle of his bare chest and he emitted a manly little bleep, “look awful pretty on you, but I think they could be put to much better use.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear, her breath like flames licking over his neck and her taut nipples scorching the fine hair on his chest.  “I think about you tying me up, making me beg and scream.”

He squeaked again, an electric bolt of desire rushing through his veins, straight to his cock, which stirred despite his best attempts to control it.

“And, sometimes when we’re sittin’ at a very public restaurant on some far off planet,” she murmured, “I’ve often thought about wearin’ a very, very short skirt (no knickers) and how much I’d love to fuck myself on your fingers under the table cloth. And then I think about slippin’ underneath the table, where no one can see me, and sucking you off.” Those last three filthy words drizzled like syrup from her lips, and he abandoned any further futile attempts to regulate his now rampant hard-on.

She suddenly became a bit shy, ducking her head. “Just so ya know, I’d be very interested in experimentin’ with…erm… new techniques and toys, Doctor, if you’d like that. I want to share this with you, yeah, anything you want to try. Anything!” Her honey brown eyes met his, brimming with tears. “Ya can’t go around tryin’ to keep all this stuff from me anymore, tryin’ to protect me or some rubbish like that. I _know_ you’d never hurt me.”

“Oh, Rose, not intentionally, but–”

She cut him off, her voice strong and confident. “Have you considered that you’ve been feelin’ so out of control ‘cause you’ve been bottlin’ it all up, all those big Time Lord feelin’s of yours? You haven’t been lettin’ yourself have the full experience. You can’t do that anymore. It ain’t healthy.”

“Well, no, I…” He mulled over her words for a long moment. She was right. He’d been suppressing his feelings for so long. No wonder he felt as though he would erupt as they simmered, evolving into something dangerous in the dark recesses of his imaginings. Centuries of not allowing himself to become too attached; the Time War forcing him to bury his emotions even deeper, guilt and hatred twisting love into something toxic.

 And then, _then_ had come Rose, with her cheek and sparkle and her boundless compassion. She had brought light to his darkness, took his reluctant hand and tugged him along to partake of her radiance. She had given him permission to love again.

And she was right: after not holding back, after allowing love to guide his actions, he realized he no longer felt as though he posed a threat to her. The burden of his guilt and fears lifted from his hearts and soul. He felt weightless and free, free to show her just how much he believed in her, how much he... weeell, how much he loved her.

He loved her! He could admit it now. He might even tell her so, if he could work up the courage.

Suddenly, he was soaring with joy, leaping high and punching the air. “Woo-hoo-hoo! Rose, you’re brilliant!”

She chuckled, her eyes dancing over his nude (very aroused) form. “Well, that was an eyeful. A fuckin’ fantastic eyeful, mind.”

“From now on,” he cheered, “I am getting the full Rose Tyler experience!”

“Yeah, I think you are!” she agreed. Then, she bit her lower lip. “So, about this orgy on the Bloort planet…”

“Festival,” he interjected.

“All right, _festival_ then. Well, I got thinkin’ about what I was sayin’ about doin’ stuff in a public place. And, well, that’s as public as it gets, yeah, but in a completely different everybody’s-doin’-it kinda way. A very good way, yeah?”

He grinned. “Oh, yes!” He rather appreciated Rose’s line of thought.

 She continued. “All those writhing bodies, and you… you with Bloort all over you, all slick and slippery, and just so fuckable.”

“I’m beginning to realize you and I think a lot alike,” he gulped and his cock twitched.

“I know you said it wasn’t a great idea, but maybe… maybe we could go back and try again sometime.”

“I was wrong! I’ve changed my mind. Why wait? Sometime is whenever we like. Sometime is now!” He held out his hand to her, wiggling his fingers. “Bloortyroonzeentoofmoorwheentoofeen is only the push of a few buttons away!”

That lovely, carefree laugh burst out of her again: a laugh that did funny things to his insides; a laugh that simultaneously made him want to run with his hand in hers, and stay in bed and make love to her forever.

“Don’t you think we should get dressed first?”

“Nah, no need. We’re only going to have to take it all off again.”

“So we can soak in the bounty of the Bloort!”

“Now you’re getting it, Rose Tyler! Allons-y!” He grabbed her hand and together they ran, completely starkers, to the console room where he set the navigational controls in record time and launched them into the vortex. They landed with a quiet thud, and he raced to the doors, thrusting them open. “Hurry, Rose! We need to gather our bed before the Bloort falls!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to be up on Saturday November 4th.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horror seized him. Where were all the Bloorteens? Where were the magenta and purple autumn glades? Where were the lovely, cushiony leaves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All ready to go a couple of days early! Hope you all enjoy the silliness!  
> This epilogue was just a stray thought that went careening around my brain after the final words of Chapter 2 were written. I really hadn't intended to do anything with it, as it isn't really a good fit with the tone of the rest of the story, but credit to mrsbertucci and rose_nebula, my brilliant betas, who were practically chanting "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!".   
> And so I relented (thanks, my darlings!) and this ridiculous scenario was created! LOL I had a lot of fun writing it, to be honest, even if my poor baby Doctor probably wished I had steered clear.  
> This, by the way, is my Centenial: 100th story! That's kinda exciting! And what a great way to celebrate 100!

* * *

**Previously:**

_“Now you’re getting it, Rose Tyler! Allons-y!” He grabbed her hand and together they ran, completely starkers, to the console room where he set the navigational controls in record time and launched them into the vortex. They landed with a quiet thud, and he raced to the doors, thrusting them open. “Hurry, Rose! We need to gather our bed before the Bloort falls!”_

 

**A Patch of Bad Weather: Epilogue**

The Doctor burst out the TARDIS doors with an exuberant whoop, leaping carefree and wonderfully naked into the air. He landed gracefully in the middle of… Jackie Tyler’s living room.

Horror seized him. Where were all the Bloorteens? Where were the magenta and purple autumn glades? Where were the lovely, cushiony leaves, the perfect surface for fucking his Rose on?

His prodigious mind scrambled to process what was happening; his superior nervous system struggled to activate a flight response to leg it back to the TARDIS; and his impressive hard-on wilted to microscopic proportions as his ears were assailed by the most terrifying sound in all of space and time.

“’Ere, w’at’s all this noise then?” Jackie’s shrill voice emanated from the kitchen. “Blimey! Never a word; not one phone call in weeks, and then,” she strode into the living room, stirring a fresh cup of tea, “outta the blue, ya ‘ave the cheek to…” Her rant died to astonished silence as her eyes met his across the room.

“Jackie!” Weeell, at least that’s what he tried to say; he was fairly certain what actually stumbled out of his mouth was more of an inarticulate squeak, and maybe, if he was being a bit optimistic, an incoherent yelp.

“Oh. My. God! I don’t believe it!”

“Jackie!” There, it sounded like a word that time. A bit.

Her hands snapped to her hips. “What the bleedin’ ‘ell are ya prancin’ about my livin’ room in the buff for?” Her eyes roved over the Doctor’s body, hovering for an indecent amount of time in the vicinity of his groin.

He lunged toward the sofa, snagging a cushion to position strategically between Jackie’s predatory gaze and his bits.

“Oi! Put that down! I’ll thank you not to put my furnishin’s anyw’ere near your Martian knackers. Never know where they might ‘ave been or w’at might be on ‘em.”

Jackie pounced to grab the cushion away from him, but he clutched it possessively against his crotch. He tried to argue that his “knackers” were most certainly _not_ Martian (Martian’s didn’t even have knackers, for fuck’s sake!) but the only sound he managed was an indignant little snarl as he twisted out of Jackie’s reach.

“Oh, for the love of… Keep it then. It’s yours! I don’t want it back _now_ ,” she snapped, curling her lip in disgust. “Honestly!”

A few seconds later, her tone had switched to something remarkably conversational. “You know, you shoulda told me you were comin’. I’d’ve called Bev. She’s been dyin’ to see w’at you’ve been hidin’ under that suit.”

His mind reeled in panic. _MAUVE ALERT! MAUVE ALERT! MAUVE ALERT!_

“Leave ‘im alone, Mum.” Rose’s voice floated out of the TARDIS doors behind him. His guardian angel. His saviour! “’S not like we planned on droppin’ in on you like this.”

“Oh, there you are, sweetheart! At least _you_ had the decency to put on a dressin’ gown, unlike this one! I mean, I don’t care w’at ya get up to in that bloody box of yours, but I won’t be havin’ any of your alien hanky-panky in my flat!”

Shoving Jackie’s diatribe to the back of his mind, the Doctor turned his back on her to gape at Rose, who had indeed just stepped out of the TARDIS wearing a fluffy, white robe, embroidered with little bananas. Flabbergasted, his gob finally started functioning. Almost. “What? WHAT? Where the hell did you get _that_?”

Rose had the decency to look sheepish. “The, erm… TARDIS. It jus’ appeared on the coral by the ramp.” At that moment, the TARDIS emitted a stuttering groan that, if the Doctor wasn’t mistaken, sounded very much like a naughty giggle.

“Traitor,” he grumbled at the time ship.

“Oooh, Rose, w’at a lovely bum ‘e ‘as!”

With garbled bleat, the Doctor plucked another cushion from the sofa and held it over his posterior.

“Mum!”

“Well, ‘e _does_! Oh, ‘ere, lemme call Bev. She wouldn’t wanna miss this!”

“Don’t you dare!” he ground out in dismay.  

“Spoilsport!” Jackie stuck her tongue out at him.

He turned the glower of the full Oncoming Storm on Jackie, but she wasn’t the least bit fazed by his posturing.

“You’ll be staying for tea, then,” (it was more of a directive than an invitation), “before you go streakin’ all ‘bout the universe.”

“Erm… weeell…”

Jackie’s arms folded across her chest, disapproval issuing from her in waves. Rassilon! The Oncoming Storm had nothing on Jackie Tyler. The shreds of hope he still clung to of seeing Rose writhing beneath him on Bloort-covered leaves (any time soon…) disintegrated completely.

“Of course. Lovely.”  At the sound of a stifled laugh, he turned to glare at Rose, who was hiding a smirk behind her fluffy, banana-embroidered sleeve.

A few uncomfortable moments passed as the Doctor adjusted his cushions awkwardly.

“Well,” Jackie barked, “w’at are you standin’ there gawkin’ at, ya loony! Go get some clothes on. You’re not sittin’ at my table dressed like that. Indecent. That’s w’at that is!”

The Doctor didn’t need to be told twice. He bounded back into the TARDIS. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he called back.

“And I’ll be wantin’ those cushions replaced!”

He closed the TARDIS doors, muttering to himself under his breath. “Oh, I’ll just bet you do…”

Just inside the TARDIS, the Doctor found a fluffy, white, banana-embroidered dressing gown and some soft cotton boxers waiting for him, along with two lovely cushions to replace the ones that had sacrificed themselves to protect his modesty. “Oh, so now you’re playing nice!” he chastised the ship. Slipping on the plush robe and the pants, he immediately felt much more relaxed, and just before he stepped back into the flat, he patted a coral strut affectionately. “Thanks, old girl. I promise next time I won’t get Bloort in your Helmic Regulator.” The Doctor stuffed his hands into the transcendental pockets of his dressing gown and rocked back on his heels. “Weeell, I’ll try not to… Unpredictable life, really.”

\--oOo--

Jackie waved good-bye with a watery smile as the TARDIS doors shut and the blue box wheezed and groaned, vanishing into thin air, taking the Doctor and her only daughter who-knows-where in the universe and leaving her alone again.

It had been a lovely tea, though, once the Doctor had got dressed: shepherd’s pie (good thing she always made sure all the ingredients were on hand, just in case...) and then Bakewells for pudding, with a nice cuppa to wash it all down. It had been a right treat to see Rose so happy. And that daft Doctor was obviously arse over elbow for her too. Besotted, he was!

It was a funny little life.

She swiped away a stray tear. Blimey, it was too bleedin’ quiet since they’d left. She picked up the phone to call Bev.

“Bev, it’s me!”

…

“Oh, luv, the day I’ve ‘ad! My Rose and her Doctor-fellow dropped by earlier.”

…

“Yeah, ya jus’ missed ‘em! But you’ll never guess…”

…

“Caught ‘im paradin’ through my lounge completely starkers! Not a stitch on ‘im, the plonker!”

…

“I know! The cheek! The things those two get up to! Rose ‘as never been the same since she took up wi’ that one!”

…

“W’at about ‘im?”

…

“Nah, luv, sorry to disappoint. ‘E’s a right beanpole; makes a bleedin’ skeleton look fat. But I reckon ‘e jus’ needs a bit of feedin’ up. I blame Rose for not takin’ better care of ‘im. But I’ll tell ya w’at though, cor, ‘e ‘as a gorgeous bum!”

…

“Oh, yeah! Ya might know I got an eyeful of that too! Hung like a flippin’ donkey, ‘e is!”

…

Jackie laughed. “My Rose is one lucky girl! Come to think of it, she _was_ walkin’ a bit funny, today. No wonder she was so ‘appy, yeah.”

…

“Oh, a good ten inches, anyway! Maybe more. Course, bein’ caught cavortin’ ‘round my livin’ room sorta took the wind outta ‘is sails, if ya catch my meanin’.

The conversation with Bev was taking the edge off Jackie’s loneliness, but there were just some things she could never say to anyone anymore; things that set her apart from the rest of the world; secrets she would have to take to her grave.

But worst of all, Jackie could never even tell Bev, her best friend, one of her greatest disappointments to come of that afternoon’s excitement: despite how impressive the Doctor’s equipment was (and she was sure he was making Rose a very happy woman), she couldn’t help but think it was a bit of shame finding out that that _wasn’t_ one of the things he had two of.

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter will be posted on Wednesday, November 1st, and the epilogue on Saturday, November 4th.
> 
> The gorgeous manip at the beginning of the story is courtesy the lovely and talented Rose_Nebula. Thank-you, darling for going above and beyond!


End file.
